Page 29 of Caveman Alien’s Horn (Caveman Aliens #26)

29

- Sprisk -

I make sure Cora is under the water and that the sheet of fabric covers her.

Some outcasts are still trying to reach the portal. They splash through the creek and scramble to get up on the other side. But the terrible whining sound is reaching such heights that I know they won’t make it in time.

I throw myself down beside Cora.

There’s a gigantic flash that sears my eyes, even though I’m clenching them shut under the water, facing the bottom of the creek.

The ground shakes wildly, and after a couple of heartbeats it feels as if the water is starting to boil. I grab Cora and lift her out of it, spluttering and coughing in her wrap, stagger to the bank, and push us into the side of the channel. Above us the air seems to be on fire, filled with bright blue flames. The heat that reaches us is tremendous, like holding your hand a foot length over a campfire. The creek has dried out, the water escaping in a cloud of steam.

I can’t breathe, for the air seems filled with fire. I just press Cora to me inside her sheet, hoping that it works the way I think it could.

A terrible wind starts to blow, sucking my hair straight up. I feel that if I stood up and jumped off the ground, the wind would grab me and lift me clear out of the creek channel.

I don’t know how long we stay like that. I steal short gasps of searing hot air with a stingy taste. Cora’s breath is quick and shallow in my arms, her heartbeat as fast as that of a spront pup.

As the heat slowly abates, I open a flap in the bundle of fabric. “Stay calm. We’re safe.”

It’s a strange thing to assert, and I’m not at all sure it’s true. But I have to say something .

Cora clings to me through the sheet, and I hold her securely.

A part of me doesn’t want this to end, terrible as it is, just Cora and me, close together. But she may leave me again at any time, and any short moment shared with her is precious to me.

The wind slowly weakens, and the flames burn out.

I push the fabric down from Cora’s face. “That was fun.”

“ Not was fun,” she says with a weak voice. “What happen?”

I stick my head up over the edge of the channel. “Come and see.” I grap her hand and I climb up to the ground level.

The ground is charred black all over the clearing. The mushrooms are all gone, and the trees of the jungle beyond are also charred black and still burning.

The outcasts are completely gone, having been burned to ash.

Cora looks up. “Look!”

Above us, high above the treetops, there’s a cloud. It’s a silvery blue, rising slowly before it’s taken by the mild breeze and drifts to the side. It sparkles with infinite little pieces of something, like flying grains of sand.

“ Spores! ” Cora exclaims. “They is spores! ”

“Spors , ” I ponder. “How do you know?”

“Mushrooms! That how they spread! They send out spores. Look! There must be trillions of them!”

“Yes, I think I see a trilyon ,” I agree. “Possibly another one behind it. Nasty things, those trilyons .”

Cora clenches my hand. “Very many! Infinite spores!”

“ Okay,” I say in her language. “But tell me this: do you actually know what this was?”

“The exploding,” she says, still staring up. “The exploding make heat. Heat goes up. The center mushroom made spores. Infinite spores. The other made… juice that explode. Burn very fast! The center mushroom decide, time to send spores. It set fire to other mushrooms, then explode they. Boom! Air very hot! Spores go over treetops and spread. Now spores will drift all over jungle. Then they land on ground, make more.”

“Like seeds?”

“Like seeds!” Cora agrees. “But these seeds I think not are seeds to make more mushroom. I think are seeds for other thing.” She turns to me, and her eyes widen. “Sprisk! My love, you’re all burned!”

I touch my face. “That is what it feels like.”

She picks the charred remains of the loincloth off me. “On no! You really burn!”

I unwrap her and look her over. “And you? Did you burn?”

“I are fine,” she says. “The fabric not burn… what is this fabric? Who made? Is big!” She holds up the sheet of fabric made from the mushroom threads. Even when she reaches her hands over her head, the other end of the sheet touches the ground.

“Well, the loom was still here, and there were many threads. So I thought…”

“But this has colors!” Cora says, examining the sheet. “Red and yellow and blue? How you make?”

“The jungle has many secrets,” I say airily. “You said you wanted colored fabric, so I made some threads with color and used them. I thought maybe… well, it doesn’t matter.”

The creek starts clucking again as the water flows in from further up the stream, replacing the water that evaporated in the intense heat.

Cora embraces me, hard. “Thank you, my love. You saved me. And you wove the fabric.”

“We knew the fabric couldn’t burn,” I say into her wet hair. Some would say that you saved me, coming here. If you hadn’t, I might have burned.”

“You did burn,” she sniffles, touching my skin. “So that I could be safe.” To my relief, her fingers still leave small spots of color, so the skin can’t be that badly damaged.

“It’s not badly burned,” I tell her. “But you may have to check. Very, very carefully. Not right now, though.”

“I will check,” she says. “Can we go? Nothing here now and smells so bad.”

I look around again. The loom is gone, and there’s no sign of where the hollow tree might have stood. It stinks of burning fluids and charred flesh. This clearing isn’t a good place to be. And in a few months, the jungle will fill it with trees and bushes, making it impossible to see where it was. “Yes, let’s go.”

I stiffen again. There’s someone standing at the edge of the clearing, lit up by the burning trees.

He waves with an unmistakable hand.

“Bakitan is here,” I say, puzzled. “I can’t help but wonder why.”

“He took me here,” Cora explains. “Through the jungle. He kept me safe. Oh. There’s something have to ask you, Sprisk. Before he get over here.”

“Yes?”

She looks up at me, her hair soaked. “Before, you said that you helped trap my friends.”

Oh, this again. “I did,” I sigh. “I dug the pit that they fell into, and I helped get the knash grubs to lure them there. It made sounds like a baby. And I know that was not a nice thing to do. Are you going to sigh and turn your back to me again?”

“But which of my friends they was?” she persists.

“It was Alba, Bronwen, and Astrid. But they didn’t go into the trap. Piper warned them at the last moment. They ran. They didn’t fall into the pit.”

“When was the last time you set a snare to trap vismonks? Like Eric?”

I don’t understand what she means. “To trap gray ghosts? I never wanted to trap a gray ghost. What would I do with it?”

Her eyes are big and clear. “You not set traps for them? Snares? To give them to the clan?”

I frown. “Nobody in the clan would want one! There’s no meat on them, and even if there was, they’re… they’re just not the kind of creature you eat. It would be like eating a… a boy!”

“You did not set snares for vismonks when you were close to my old tree?”

I shake my head. “Not then, not ever. This is a strange thing you’re suddenly talking about about, Cora.”

Bakitan climbs down into the creek channel and out of view.

Cora takes my hand and squeezes. “Because that what I meant last time. Someone set traps for the vismonks, close to my tree. Three of them were trapped. They rescued by others, but one died after. I thought that when you say you trap my friends, that what you meant! That you trap vismonks!”

“It was not!” I say, exasperated. “I meant your friends, the alien women! Which, it seemed to me, would make you much angrier than that strange gray ghost idea.”

“But those girls not are angry because of you trap them. They laugh now about it.”

Bakitan climbs back out, kicking at the ground and looking around, clearly astounded at how this place has changed.

“Yes, I know,” I say. “ They laugh about it. But they’re your friends and I did try to trap them, to capture them in a pit trap. To catch them like prey, like a Big. If I were a triber, I would say it was dishonorable. I thought it would make you angry when you found out.”

She embraces my waist and squeezes. “If girls not angry, I not also. They end living in tribe and clan, married, very happy girls.”

I grin to the sky, unspeakably relieved. She’s not angry! It was just a strange misunderstanding.

A weight is lifted from me, and I suddenly see the world in a bright light, despite everything around me being burned to charcoal.

And this seems as good a time as any.

“Cora,” I say and push her gently off me, but keep hold of her hand. “First I have to ask you something. It’s a silly thing, and of course you can’t agree. I know that. But I had a lot of time to think, and I promised myself that if I ever met you again, I would ask you this. Cora, will you marry me?”